End Me a Tenor (24 page)

“Good.”

I was torn between hope he was right and worry I was being snowed. “Really?”

He laughed. “There’s a few things you’ll want them to work on before competition season, but they look good. You can stop panicking.”

Yeah. Like that was going to happen.

“Have I told you how amazing you look in that dress?” Devlyn asked. The warm smile combined with the gleam in his eye made my heart skip several beats. “Maybe when the concert is over, we can go out and celeb—”

The sexual gleam in Devlyn’s eyes disappeared as he stared at something behind me. Oh God. My muscles clenched. Devlyn must have spotted one of the
Messiah
cast members he’d met last night. Jonathan? Ruth? Mark?

I turned and found myself looking at . . . Mike. He looked every inch the cop in a faded gray sport coat and less-than-pressed blue shirt and jeans. Lurking somewhere under that coat was a gun. Part of me had been certain Mike was going to be a no-show. Seeing him here made me sigh with relief. Devlyn’s stormy expression said the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“Why is Detective Kaiser here? He doesn’t strike me as the high school choir concert kind of guy.”

There was violence shimmering under the seemingly calm words. I’d heard the same tone used during a rehearsal for the fall play. I’d poked my head into the room just in time to witness Devlyn’s mild speech expressing disappointment in the students for not having their lines memorized. Then he threw them all out of the theater and threatened to cancel the show.

Bracing for an eviction, I admitted, “I invited him.” Devlyn’s eyes blazed, making me glad I’d never told him about the car that ran me off the road. Hoping to diffuse Devlyn’s anger, I hurried to add, “He’s got a gun. I thought that might come in handy on the off chance the killer showed up.”

Thoughts of the killer made me scan the room again. The choirs that would perform later in the program were filing into the front rows. Millie and Aldo were seated next to Chessie’s parents. Gulp. And there was Larry in the back of the theater, talking to Principal Logan and several members of the school board. There was plenty of potential danger lurking even without any sign of a murder suspect.

Mike took the seat next to my aunt. He spotted me looking in his direction, gave me a grimace, and waved. Mike didn’t want to be at this concert any more than Devlyn wanted him here. Maybe seeing that would improve Devlyn’s mood.

Nope. Still pissed. It was a good thing the show would start soon or I’d probably say something to Devlyn I’d regret. On a normal day, I might find Devlyn’s jealousy flattering. Tonight, I really wasn’t in the mood.

Devlyn and I walked backstage as the students’ families and friends continued to fill the seats. My choir waited offstage for its cue. Music in Motion was kicking off the show with its set of seasonal songs. The competition numbers would come later.

Pretending my stomach wasn’t tied in knots, I gave the kids one final pep talk before taking my place in the house moments before the lights blinked on and off. Audience members scrambled for their seats. The band took its place. I stood in the aisle behind the last row of seats. From the back of the theater I could watch the show, keep an eye out for the killer, and bite my nails without being observed. Multitasking at its finest.

The houselights dimmed and then went black. The stage lights glowed to life and the choir members ran onto the stage, decked out in their holiday costumes. My heart swelled with pride as I watched them take their places with confidence. And I realized something. That yes, I wanted to keep my job, but there was something I wanted more. I wanted tonight to be a triumph for my kids.

My
kids.

Regardless of the angst they caused—or maybe because of it—they were mine. If the school board decided to fire me tonight, my emotional involvement with them wouldn’t end. The paycheck had lured me into teaching them. And despite the monetary motivation, somewhere along the line, I had begun to care.

The music started. My stomach flopped like a dying fish, and I held my breath. I was always nervous before my own performances, but that anxiety paled in comparison to this. For good or for ill, when I was on stage I had control. Here I could only hope for the best.

Even from back here, I could see the sparkle in my students’ eyes as they strutted their stuff. Their harmonies were strong. The solos were loud and clear and the dance steps executed with smiles. Even Claire looked like she was having fun—well, sort of.

And then they were done.

I watched my kids race off the stage for their costume change, accompanied by a swell of applause. They were good. Better than good. Mike had to be feeling a bit silly for putting down high school choir concerts. Now I just had to hope the second set of songs would go as well.

Larry took the stage as the freshman choir tromped onto the risers. The pianist played the intro. Larry raised his hands, and the kids began to sing.

Okay—Mike wasn’t feeling so silly now.

Doing my best to ignore the creative harmony choices emanating from the stage, I wandered around the back of the auditorium and searched for signs of danger. The faces of those seated in the very back of the theater were mostly unfamiliar. Those I did know belonged to parents of students. While that was reassuring, there were close to one thousand seats in the auditorium—most of them filled. There was no way to see them all.

The all-girls choir took the stage and performed three songs. Then it was the Singsations’ turn. Larry’s show choir had more than twice as many students as Music in Motion. They danced less, which was good since a couple of the guys were less than coordinated, and sang with half the volume of their counterparts. But the soloists were strong and a couple kids had a spark that drew attention. No doubt they would be part of next year’s Music in Motion. Would I?

The concert choir took the stage. Most of the show choir students were in this top choir. Their green and yellow robes currently hid their sequined competition costumes, but I knew they were there. The three songs went fast—perhaps because they sounded really good—and before I knew it, my kids had shed their robes and had once again taken their places center stage.

The lights changed. They were brighter. Rhinestones sparkled. The kids beamed. The band director raised his baton. I sucked in air and held it as the band began to rock out. Then the kids started to sing.

I didn’t exhale until the opening lift was successfully complete. The guys twirled the girls into their arms, sending prisms of reflected light dancing across the stage. The girls put their arms around the guys’ shoulders and kicked up their legs. The boys held the girls in basket-catch position before swinging the girls around their backs. When the girls came around the other side, the boys caught them in another basket catch before tossing them once in the air and spotting their partners as the girls jumped to the ground.

Perfect.

The execution was sensational. Better than rehearsal. Better than I’d seen them dance—ever. And while the basses could have been louder, the singing was strong, too. The crowd cheered as the music ended with the girls striking a pose while seated on their partners’ shoulders.

There were excited whispers in the audience as Claire and her partner raced off the stage. They would sing from the wings while the rest of the choir performed the new number. The remaining twelve members hit their marks, the band started, and away they went.

Devlyn was right. There were things that needed to be fixed: a hand position here, an awkward crossover there. Each lift made my heart stop. Each lift made my heart soar. And while Megan had a slightly better sound for the solo, Jamie’s voice was strong and compelling as she belted out the words. I’d watched enough YouTube show choir competition videos to know my group would score well this year. With a few final touches, this group had a chance to win. When I’d started this job, I’d told myself I’d be done with it long before those competitions ever took place. Only, I’d changed my mind. I wanted to be there. I wanted to see this choir compete. I wanted to help them win. Then I could move on.

As the last number started, I couldn’t help doing a victory jig as Chessie’s voice soared over the ensemble. The kids did it. They learned the new number. They had the crowd cheering for more. I was going to keep my job.

The kid on drums wailed away. The boys flipped the girls in a somersault over their arms, and the girls landed on their feet.

And that’s when it happened. One of the guys bumped his partner, who had not completely regained her balance. She threw out an arm to steady herself and clipped Eric. He turned to look for whatever struck him and lowered his arm a fraction of an inch. That was all it took. Chessie spun toward him, leaned back to where his arms were supposed to catch her, and found his arms weren’t where she expected them to be. Her eyes widened. Her smile disappeared. A moment later Chessie’s backside and what was left of my career hit the ground with a thud.

Eric helped Chessie to her feet. The choir kept singing and dancing. Everyone executed the final lift and hit the last pose with huge smiles. The crowd went wild as my students lined up to take a bow. The applause continued even when the other choral students climbed onto the stage to sing the final group song.

Larry waved his arms. The kids sang. Larry turned and indicated the audience should sing along. Most did or at least pretended to. I couldn’t. Sound couldn’t squeak past the tears in my throat—tears I would never let fall. Not here. Not in front of the school board, who only cared about getting a trophy in the spring. When they fired me, my eyes would be dry. As far as consolation prizes went, it wasn’t much, but beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

Applause signaled the end of the concert. The houselights flickered to life. The choirs left the stage as parents and friends stood up from their seats. Larry was mobbed at the foot of the stage stairs by audience members wanting to talk about the performance. I spotted Devlyn standing about halfway up a side aisle near an exit door. He was smiling and nodding as he chatted with students and adults. I should be doing the same, but I couldn’t get my feet to move.

“You realize I missed the game because I had to come here, right?” Mike leaned against the back wall of the auditorium with his arms crossed over his chest. “But the show was pretty good, if you go for this kind of thing.”

I studied Mike’s face to see if he was snowing me. Both Devlyn and Mike were hard to read. Devlyn with the whole acting thing and Mike with his cop face. But instead of the flat eyes and expressionless stare, Mike was smiling. My heart lifted. Maybe I was overreacting. I mean, if a guy like Mike enjoyed the show, maybe the school board did, too.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the performance.”

Mike’s grin grew wider. “The girl falling to the ground was almost as good as watching one of the Bulls’ forwards clothesline an opposing point guard.”

I sighed. So much for holding out hope.

Mike didn’t seem to notice my dejection as he continued, “The girl who fell has moxie. She got up and kept smiling. You gotta admire someone who keeps going after taking a hit.”

He was right. Chessie got knocked down, got back up, and finished strong. Could I do any less? Straightening my shoulders, I said, “I have to do the meet-and-greet thing with the parents. Are you going to stick around?”

“Unless dispatch calls, I’m all yours. Consider me your personal bodyguard.” He sauntered closer and whispered, “If you feel like taking advantage of my body in the process, so much the better.”

I made sure Mike saw my exaggerated eye roll before I plastered a smile on my face and headed into the crowd. Small talk wasn’t my forte on a good day. Neither was remembering names, although I was pretty good at faces. Larry excelled at both names and inane conversation. Not only did he remember which parents went with which of his 150 students, he also remembered the names of the students’ siblings, the parents’ jobs, and a bunch of other useless trivia. While that information would never land him behind the winner’s podium on
Jeopardy!
, it made him look brilliant during these after-concert moments. Me—well, at least I only had fourteen sets of parents to remember. How hard could that be?